


Wreathed in Heavensflame

by Vaiire



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27569956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaiire/pseuds/Vaiire
Summary: The Warrior of Light seeks to get away from his responsibilities, hoping to find sanctuary in the Azim Steppes, but instead has a fateful encounter with Sadu Dotharl.
Relationships: Sadu Dotharl/Warrior of Light
Kudos: 15





	Wreathed in Heavensflame

**Author's Note:**

> For my good friend, Z. Without whom, I don't know where I'd be.

The air of the Azim Steppe was crisp, its weather fair and sun high. Vast expanses of grassland lay open, wedged between mountain ranges and dotted with hills. It was the perfect place to get away from the rest of the world. At least, that was what the Warrior of Light had intended. No questing, no fighting, no running errands for complete strangers. It would just be him, his thoughts, and the tranquillity of the Steppe.

Wild sheep moseyed about the plains, chewing and baaing all the while. Their lives were easy. Enviously so. To be expected of so little seemed like such a luxury to the Warrior of Light as he dragged about his greatsword. Dragged? No, too begrudging. His sword had become a part of him, the weight of it simply another fixture like his hair or clothes. There, but unnoticeable.

How long had it been since he'd last visited the Steppe? Months? Last time, alongside Lord Hien and Y'shtola, he'd come and inspected the pillars at the House of the Crooked Coin. Though the investigation was ultimately a successful one, it was roundabout. Including some hostile negotiations with the chief of the Dotharl tribe. She was certainly fierce…

“KHAAAAAAAGAN!!” a voice boomed in the distance.

Oh no.

A column of flame shot past the Warrior of Light, scorching the earth and scuttling the sheep. He turned to see, across the field, a staff-bearing Xaelan. A Thaumaturge; proud, with a big, wolfish grin. Skin as deep as midnight, hair as pale as the moon, she stood strong and readied herself for another strike.

“Take up arms, khagan. Let us hear the sweet song of your blade!”

With a swathe of her staff – Sadu's staff. That's right, her name was Sadu, – more flames gushed out. Sadu Dotharl, Sadu Heavenflame. Khatun of Dotharl Khaa. Undying one. Many titles, given and taken, to accompany her great might… and insatiable appetite for battle.

Greatsword ready, the Warrior of Light cleaved Sadu's fire in two, its embers licking at the bare skin of his face. Though the display of strength was aimed to deter, it served only to elate his Xaelan opponent. Her smile grew broader, more wicked; eyes alight with joy. It must have been an act of divine punishment-- to seek a moment of respite only to encounter the most bloodthirsty of all.

“I have no quarrel with you!” he spoke up, a single hand raised defensively.

Sadu merely laughed. “Our dance has only just begun, khagan!”

“Please.”

“I feel the sparks – the fire – in my soul. More! Give me more!”

“Wait, just listen to--”

Another pillar of flames came as the answer. Black scrapes across green were all that remained now; a charcoal farmer's patch, smouldering, ashen and bare. Sadu squinted, steeled. Though it wasn't until a silhouette settled across her face did she finally take heed. The Warrior of Light's body eclipsed the midday sun, his blade plunging down with tempered fury.

Instinctively, Sadu jumped back. However, the sheer concussive force of the blow pelted dirt and stone and wind, knocking her off balance. She recovered quickly but found herself staring at the tip of her foe's greatsword. His face was calm, hers downright ecstatic. A meeting of ideologies was held as they caught each others' gaze.

“Your steel sings beautifully, though I am remiss as to why you do not allow it to crescendo,” Sadu said wryly; a provocation. The thirst for battle unquenched, and the desire for it clouded her.

The Warrior of Light planted his sword in the dirt and folded his arms disapprovingly. Where to even begin with her? The khatun's will to fight was plain, even now. He could see it in her haloed, cerulean eyes. How they watched for any openings he might have, so that the battle might continue.

“I know you will not yield,” he finally replied. “However, I have no intention of fighting you. Should you strike me down now, I will not stop you. But your victory would not be earned.”

Sadu stood – her staff tightly gripped; lips thin, hesitant – and nodded. Her disappointment was clear. Robbed of a satisfying battle and the possibility of an earned victory, it was understandable. The Warrior of Light sighed and sheathed his greatsword as the Xealan before him composed herself.

“I did not mean to offend you, khagan. It has been many moons since your last journey to the Steppe, and I was… overzealous with my approach,” she explained.

“How did you know I was here in the first place?”

“A scout informed me that a stranger encroached on our territory. I came to investigate the matter personally, and Nhaama rewarded my dedication with our chance encounter.”

“Then I am sorry to disappoint you… and Nhaama.”

“The apology is mine to make,” she admitted sweetly. “Please, allow me to make amends by extending an invitation to my village. I would be honoured to treat you to some Dotharl hospitality, khagan.”

“I couldn't possibly--”

“--Pray tell me, did you have another appointment?”

“No, I didn't. I--”

“--Then I see no reason for you to decline. Come, we shall host a mighty banquet! A feast so grand the Azim Khaat will hear it!”

There would be no reasoning with her on this; Sadu had always been adamant on matters regarding her tribe. Just when he'd wormed his way out, he'd fallen right back into her clutches. Blunt and brutish, but cunning in her own way. Great. There goes the vacation.

As they walked, Sadu spoke of how the Steppe had changed in his absence. Of how the Mol Tribe remained true to their word and demanded no tribute. Of the growth, both economical and religious, for almost all the tribes. Of quarrels being dealt with fairly. Of the Oronir getting their comeuppance.

It had been beneficial to the Dotharl, and their khatun seemed all the calmer for it. He almost caught her smile at the recollection. Well… as close to a genuine smile as she could give without the madness of battle flowing through her. But it was a smile nonetheless.

“You still refer to me as 'khagan', why? I passed that title on,” the Warrior of Light asked, armoured feet sifting through long grass.

Sadu tilted her head at the question, eyebrows furrowed in amusement. As though she was privy to a joke and lorded superiority over him for it. Her smile had even shifted back to its devilish self; a mockery of sorts.

“Is it not obvious? As well you should know, my people value strength above all. To us, you are the khagan in truth,” she explained.

“But you said that the Mol were…”

“…Lambs can ne'er hope to be as wolves. They sit the Throne, aye. And while we Dotharli recognize their claim, we do not respect it. It is not an authority they have claimed for themselves.”

“Because I won the Naadam for them?”

“Yes, khagan. Your strength is undeniable and it is something I have come to respect greatly. Long have I ached to clash with you once more.”

There was something in her tone-- something else. Flattery? Sadu's only thoughts appeared to be of battle and nothing else. Was this merely a change of tactic? A new strategy? He would have none of it. No more fighting, period.

“Once again, I must apologize. I came to the Steppe to get away from fighting, not to pursue it,” he said firmly.

“Are all Hyur as odd as you, khagan?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You continue to repeat yourself as though my ears do not work. I merely wondered if perhaps all of your kind were similarly disposed?”

A silence; stale. A blink. Then Sadu laughed; a maniacal laugh, full of mischief and delight. “I tease, khagan!” she exclaimed, winding down. “Fret not, for I shall respect your wishes.” That damn smile of hers. “Come… we have nearly arrived.”

The Warrior of Light chewed on his sentiment as they scaled the outcrop bordering Dotharl Khaa. The village – could it even be called a village? More of an encampment, – had hardly grown since his last visit. A couple extra tents, a slightly larger pen, a few more defensive walls and watchtowers… nothing grand. Perhaps it was destined to always remain small?

To their right, the statue of Nhaama – their moon, their ancestor and deity; the Dusk Mother – cast a watchful gaze over the village. Her form now mostly a monument to the flow of time: victim to countless sandstorms and rainfalls. Three-quarters buried and significantly degraded, Her beauty and legacy carried on only through Her children. 

And carry, it did.

“Welcome back to Dotharl Khaa. I trust your stay will be a pleasant one, khagan,” Sadu spoke up, an arm gracefully extended. The showmanship was unnecessary, but appreciated.

“Thank you, I trust it shall,” he said, smiling.

Together they descended down a path carved into the side of the outcrop. A surprisingly wide one, too. Most likely to account for the larger, male Xaelan. As Sadu hit the sand, the beginnings of the Nhaama Desert, she was waved down by another Dotharli-- her assistant? She seemed a bit winded.

“Shar, just the person I wished to see!” the khatun beamed.

“Khatun,” Shar responded formally.

“Nhaama has blessed us with a visit from the khagan, and we are to grace him with the finest hospitality the Dotharli can offer. Make haste and inform the others. And make preparations, for we feast at dusk in their honour!”

Without another word, Shar disappeared back up the bank. The Warrior of Light hadn't the time to even register the speed and discipline. A few of his own companions could learn a thing or two from the Dotharl about that. He blinked back to reality and found Sadu staring up at him, arms crossed, face stern.

“Now then, khagan,” she began. “Let us away to my quarters, and you can regale me with tales of your exploits. Seems a fair compensation after having deprived me of a thrilling battle, no?”

Fair compensation? Right. Well… it beats fighting. He gestured for her to lead. “After you, khatun.”

Her tent – yurt, whatever, – was spacious and regal, with candles everywhere. Unlike the rest of the village's which were communal, Sadu's was solely hers by right as khatun. Rich, blue rugs made up the flooring; Dotharl colours. Banners of a similar make adorned the circular interior. A large bed draped with cured animal pelts stood hard-north facing the entrance flap. There was also a desk and long table with chairs to accompany them on one side, and a folding screen hiding luxuriously large tub for bathing on the other.

“I have to admit, this isn't what I was expecting,” the Warrior of Light admitted.

“What would you have preferred, khagan, that I adorn my walls with the heads of slain foes?”

“Not… quite.”

“I suppose Little Sun would serve nicely as a weapon's rack-- or, no… wait! Bwa, ha, ha, ha, ha! A trophy rug! Stuffed and displayed in the middle of my room!”

Little Sun? Oh right, Magnai of the Oronir tribe. The one Y'shtola turned down. That Little Sun. 

The Warrior of Light removed his greatsword and armour, the heat of Nhaama's Desert finally getting to him. Not quite the breathable garbs Dotharli wore underneath, but equally relieving. Lighter, at least. Sadu, meanwhile, sat at one of the chairs by the table, her eyes not leaving him-- predator to prey.

He sat down with her began to spin his tales. 

He described the battle against Archbishop Thordan and his Twelve Knights, the Heaven's Ward. He spoke of bringing the dark of night back to the light-corrupted world of Norvandt after defeating the Lightwardens. He told her of liberating Ala Mhigo from the vile clutches of the Garlean Empire, and of defeating the Garlean prince, Zenos, twice.

The Warrior of Light watched Sadu's eyes light up as he recounted his journeys and great battles. It was a thrill to her-- a dream come true. Entirely new worlds, new adversaries, and endless possibilities. Like a child being told wondrous legends, the Dotharli could not pry away from the conversation. Her questions were as the stars in the sky, endless and scattered.

Her curiosity was captivating. Indeed, there were few who took the time to listen to him. The experience was… pleasant? There were certainly sides to Sadu – sides other than blood-lust, anyway, – that were endearing, but pleasant? It all seemed so incongruous. In most all their previous encounters, they had done nothing but fight; however, Sadu had displayed more acuity and charm than ever before.

And he was glad for it.

Time whittled away as they became lost in their conversation, and it wasn't until Shar's return did they realize just how much. The sun sat half-sunk on the horizon as the trio emerged from the tent. Azim ready to bequeath Nhaama her lunar curtain. It was colder now, too, a cloudless sky unable to trap the day's warmth.

On the sandy outskirts of the village stood a pillar of wood, practically begging for a spark. Smaller fire pits had been sprinkled around it and lit, rotisseries of meats and vegetables slowly basking in the embers. Many tables were placed to the south side, closer to the village and away from the smoke. The entire clan had arrived for the feast, many engaged in idle chatter as children played.

For a tribe of warriors, it was surprisingly civil. Another deconstruction of bias. The Warrior of Light stood back – behind the tables; after all, this was their ritual, – as Sadu, staff in hand, approached the pillar. The mutterings quietened, the children settled, and everybody turned to their khatun whose face was rich with energy.

“Warriors of Dotharl Khaa!” she chanted, her voice carrying perfectly across the cold sands. “Tonight we give thanks to Nhaama! For our strength! For our courage! We, Her chosen, have been blessed in truth!” 

The Dotharli cheered with every cry. “And we have been blessed once again by Her generosity, for She has seen fit to grant us an audience with the khagan. Not the sheep's false idol, but the true khagan. Our khagan!” Again, they cheered.

“We have the honour to host Azim's Chosen, not those feckless suns – nay, stars – of the Oronir!” Sadu continued, her arms raised high; prideful, powerful. “Take heed, Dotharli, for it proves we have the strength and the divine right to win the next Naadam and claim the Dawn Throne, just as our ancestors did so long ago!”

Another deafening cacophony from the crowd stampeded across the desert. It rolled like thunder, deep and foreboding. Sadu had joked about making those in the Azim Khaat hearing them, but it felt like a possibility now. Even the children gave it their all.

“And now…” the khatun touched her staff to the pillar. “By the grace of the Dusk Mother, we feast in your honour, our mighty khagan!”

A tower of torrential fire surged ever-upwards, clutching on the kindling and logs like drench across stone. The pillar erupted all at once, its heat explosive and radiant. A flickering, orange star adrift in a sandy empyrean. But by far the most impressive part was Sadu's timing, having lit it right as the sun finished setting.

The Warrior of Light gave an appreciative slow clap for the khatun as she returned, the elation still working its way through her system. She was breathless, energized, and a touch sweaty. Probably the only downside of igniting a bonfire while being that close to it.

“Magnificent speech,” he congratulated.

“Your words are kind, khagan. Thank you,” she said. “Come, won't you share a drink with me? I have a dire thirst after all that.”

He nodded and walked with her to a rack holding a selection of wine skins. Sadu heaved one off and poured its smooth, milky contents into two small bowls sitting on the table next to it. The liquid reeked of something most foul, and it took everything the Warrior of Light had to not gag. Sadu caught his reaction and hid her cheeky grin.

“What is it?” he asked nervously.

“Kumis-- fermented mare's milk,” she held her cup-bowl aloft. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

He threw it back expecting the worst but found it had a surprising sweetness to it. Then the bitter after-taste sunk in and he felt his throat seize up. It was terrible; downright poisonous. Who had the bright idea to make alcohol out of milk? Should've been thrown into the Ruby Sea!

“Bwa, ha, ha, ha, ha! You handled that surprisingly well, khagan,” Sadu teased.

“That was… nngh… something…”

“It is an acquired taste. If you would prefer, I can arrange for something more suitable? We have a selection wines and ales from Reunion.”

“Anything else. Please.”

Sadu laughed once more – teasing, but not mocking, she held too much respect for him to mock, – and beckoned over a pair of Dotharli. “Fetch the khagan a cask of ale we received from the merchant sheep,” she ordered. “And give word to our musicians that they may begin in earnest.”

“Perhaps something to eat would alleviate the after-taste?” she added.

“Yeah. Sure. Sounds great.” Yuck.

The Warrior of Light moved fire-pit-to-fire-pit with the khatun as his escort. He sampled over dozens cuts, most of it lamb; tender, chewy… all of it lovely. He continued to drink – ale this time, thank goodness – and slowly developed a light buzz. An orchestra of drums, strings, flutes, laughter, singing and stamping feet – dancing? – pounded in his ears. The heat of the bonfire cascaded over him, coalescing it all of it together.

By the time he'd come round for his third drink, the moon was high and the feast in full swing. Dotharli danced around the bonfire to the sway of the music, and in no particular fashion. It was joyful in a way that seemed contrary to their warrior lifestyle. Short lives, simple pleasures. No harm in them enjoying what they had.

As the golden liquid touched his lips, a pair of deep-blue arms yanked him out into the dance. The sudden pull cost him the ale, its contents strewn across the sand-- gone in the blink of an eye. Utterly heartbreaking.

“Come, khagan, let us dance!” the Xaelan – wait, Sadu? – cheered. He'd lost track of her a while ago.

Sadu's face beamed in the light of the bonfire, her smile wide and wolfish as always. Cheeks rosy, or as rosy as her spruce-blue skin would allow. Beads of sweat shimmered like tiny stars. And her eyes-- those damn, cerulean eyes, shined brightest of all. How easy it was to get lost in them.

The beat of the drums and tempo of the strings forced the Warrior of Light to match the khatun's intensity. The sway of her feather-skirt accentuated her hips, which in turn accentuated her midriff. The more she gyrated, the more he noticed. Sadu had a femininity about her, one she clearly did not realize hidden beneath her veneer of barbarism. To say nothing about having taken so long to see it himself.

They danced and sang and entangled themselves unto each other. A heated embrace, one forged by festivity as opposed to battle. They laughed and drank – the kumis a touch more palatable now – and eventually crashed to the ground in a pile of sweat, smiles and frantic breaths. With the world spinning, there was little more to do than giggle between the sweet suckling of air.

Sadu and the Warrior of Light sat side-by-side, legs draped out across the sand, basking in the warmth of the dwindling bonfire and the light of the uncontested moon. The Dotharli continued to feast, though the children had been put to bed, and the musicians played soft serenades for a smaller pocket of listeners now.

“There are so few of us now…” she commented, voice sombre.

“Pardon?” he was caught unawares. He imagined she referred to her people, and as those beautiful, cerulean eyes lowered, he knew that was the case.

“May I confide in you, khagan? My heart weighs heavy on a matter most delicate, and I find that you are… easy to speak with.”

“You can tell me anything. I'm listening.”

Sadu exhaled deeply, a droplet of hesitance in her ocean of courage. “We are a proud and fierce tribe,” she began. “Eager to test our mettle… and court death in kind. The Dotharl have e'er adhered to this dogma since our creation. My soul has lived many lifetimes and fought in countless battles. It knows this. I know it. So tell me, khagan, why is it now – when I see my people, scant as they are – that my heart tells me it is wrong?”

“I am stricken with ambivalence. As with all Dotharli, I seek a great death-- a warrior's death. To die valiantly in battle is a sacred act to us. However… I have come to understand that were I to die, it would be a selfish act.”

“But would it not also prudent to replenish my clan's numbers?” she asked, facing the Warrior of Light now, a fire lit behind those haloed eyes. “That which I am, would my position as khatun not inspire a soul of great power to reincarnate and lead my people to prosperity once more? Is ensuring that my strength carry on not an act of equal valour? So then how am I to choose?”

The Warrior of Light mulled her words fiercely. All throughout, Sadu had maintained her composure, and such strong conviction was inspiring. In her gaze he saw that she was indecisive, not despondent.

“So you're torn between duties as khatun and your desires as a Dotharl warrior?” he asked.

“It is not a comforting notion. Tell me, khagan, were your path my own, what would you choose?”

Ah. Only after a different opinion. “Well, that's…”

“Put aside this business of tribes… of cultures and beliefs,” Sadu's gaze intensified. “Which would you choose: the deepest desire of your soul, or your duties and responsibilities to others?” 

“I've always been driven to help others in need. Always putting others before myself,” the Warrior of Light explained.

“You would forgo your soul's burning desire for the sake of others, for your duty?”

He stood, a little shaky – damned vertigo – and looked up to the moon. “Yes, Sadu, I think I would.” He turned back to the khatun. “But we are each our own person. I think what you should do is look inward and ask yourself: who are you, and what you want?”

“You are… curious, khagan,” Sadu mumbled.

“I shall take that as a compliment, but I'm afraid I must--” he yawned deeply, stretching. “--Retire. Excuse me.”

Sadu watched the Warrior of Light go, her expression of mirth but her mind of unease. It was madness. He was madness! How could he answer that which vexed her so effortlessly? A question so intertwined with permanence treated with such callousness. Damn him.

Damn her…

She had lived assuredly, confidently, both past and present. Her soul was not wrong, it blazed ever-still. Her gaze was not wrong, it saw ever-more. What was different, and why now? As the minutes whiled away, she still could not find the answer. How utterly frustrating.

Sadu clutched her staff tight and stared directly up at Nhaama. What was the answer? Damn him, and damn her promise. They would do battle this night.

The Warrior of Light returned to Sadu's tent-- yurt, damn it. Why she had insisted on him staying here, he had no clue. Dotharl hospitality, he supposed. But he didn't complain, it was a nice… yurt, and he'd slept in far worse places besides. Like the ground. Face down in the dirt; a common trend.

However, it wasn't terribly long afore the flap swooshed aside once more. Amok with ambivalence – confusion and anger, both – did the khatun brandish her weapon. Those cerulean eyes flickered, dark and impetuous. She was battle-ready, while he'd not even had the time to disrobe.

“Is there… something the matter?” the Warrior of Light asked, uncertain.

Sadu exhaled; practically growled, actually. There was a spark in her, the beginnings of a roaring fire.

The Warrior of Light bolted across the room and wrest the staff from her clutches with nearly all-too-much-strength. There would be no second-guessing her power. And in a matter of a few simple movements, he had Sadu's arms restrained behind her back.

“What are you doing?!” he attempted to ask amidst the grapple, ever-cautious of the warrior-woman's horns.

She grunted and grumbled and struggled. Her strength was undeniable, but he held firm. “Release me!” she cursed.

“Not till you calm down!”

The wriggling ceased, but the exhaling – growling, again, more like – did not. She was upset, perhaps rightly so.

“I would run afoul of our agreement if it meant easing my mind,” she explained, tense. “Battle has e'er alleviated my woes, and I thought…”

“Just talk-- talk to me. Please.”

She stopped, convinced.

“I… apologize if my actions have upset you, khagan.” Sadu's sombre tone carried far and the Warrior of Light eased his grip, if only a little. “It is rare for any warrior to have the strength to match me. Rarer still, to best me,” she continued. “And you have done so twice now. Even at this very moment… your strength eclipses my own.”

“You're not making any sense.”

Sadu sighed, impatient. Did she have to spell it out? Battle would have been a faster alternative. She turned her head and met his gaze. How could he exude such serenity, yet command such strength? Still utterly frustrating.

“You asked of me what it is I wanted,” Sadu began. “Were we to clash with our full mights, I know you could give me the great death I seek. But I realize it is against your nature, and I would not deign you to compromise it for my sake.”

The Warrior of Light drank in her full visage. Tight, close. Her words fell across him like silk. There was something there-- sultriness? She smelled so nice. How could sweat smell nice? No wait, not the time. Focus. Focus…

“As khatun, it is my sworn duty to protect, guide and nurture the Dotharl Tribe,” Sadu continued. “But as a Dotharli, I have my pride and desires like any other.” She softened in his arms. “I swore I would take only the strongest.” Her gaze faltered momentarily; the briefest hesitation. Still, however, she… sunk into him. 

“You are so unlike anything I have ever Seen. You possess a strength no soul could match.”

She turned, free from his grip, face close enough to feel his warm breath. She held him in her Sight and bore through his soul to reaffirm her decision. Yes, it could only be him-- would only be him. His soul; his strength.

“What are you saying?” the Warrior of Light asked, tongue heavy.

“I would… have… 'you', khagan.”

There was an unspoken acceptance, one shown only in their heady, flitting gaze. An electricity – a spark, like kindling – spreading rapidly; rivers rushing to meet. Lips locked, and the Warrior of Light found it to be more sweet and more intoxicating than all the kumis in all the Steppe. Their tongues began to dance, light and swift. A graceful sword fight, each twirl and jab purposeful and enticing. 

It felt so right.

Lost in capriciousness, their arms coiled-- hers around his neck, his behind her waist. Romantic, not lustful; their bonding mutual, yet animalistic. What she gave, he took, and vice versa. Soft moans and intermittent heavy breathing filled the yurt as two bodies writhed to-and-fro with each other in the candlelight. A veritable ocean's tide of flesh.

“Mmm. Why, khagan, I believe your… 'spear' is readied. Are we to do battle after all?” the khatun teased, her devilish smile wide.

Indeed. Amidst all the excitement, he found himself more pent up than he'd realized.

Sadu took a single step back – gaze and grin, unfaltering – and unclasped the fastening around her neck. With a series of wriggles and tugs her top came free, baring all. Each but a handful, perky, stark, and fully erect-- a sign of her equal readiness.

Likewise and with all gentlemanly fashion, the Warrior of Light removed his shirt to match.

They looked over one another intently, a brief respite from their passion. As they drank in each other bodies, seconds stretched into an eternity.

She was beautiful and exotic, her skin the night sky and scales jagged obsidian. There was a softness to her body, somehow, behind all the muscle and old battle scars. Her hair cascaded down strangely delicate shoulders like molten silver. Two pearls – cerulean and full – crowned her visage, and probed him back.

“You're… amazing,” the Warrior of Light managed to huff out.

“How perceptive,” she giggled back. “I admit you are rather… handsome yourself, khagan.” She drank in the sight of his torso, similarly hardened, like hers, from a lifetime of struggles, though far more intense. But there was more to his strength than mere muscles. Just what kind of battles had he faced?

“I'm sorry, I've never--”

“--Hush now,” she closed the gap, a finger to his lips. “Words will do no good in the battle to come.”

They kissed once more, quickly, and then Sadu led him over to her bed. The thing wasn't all that impressive, just a feather-stuffed mattress. She beckoned him closer, above her, and with the Warrior of Light on all-fours, they resumed their passion-play.

Hands explored, provocative and adventurous. Across his toned back, and over the ridges of his shoulder blades. Down her hips, beneath the edges of her skirt. Slowly, unconsciously-- in a mirror of each other, their fingers intertwined. He held her and she welcomed him.

There was hardly any room to crane his neck with Sadu's horns in the way. Still, he trailed kisses down her neck, and she gave amorous coos at his tenderness. Glazing over the scales that lined her jaw, he worked his way down. The way she writhed under the heat of his affection was… invigorating, and only inspired him to delve more fervently. 

As he reached the khatun's petite mounds, still hardened by excitement, the Warrior of Light started to give them special attention. And from the way Sadu's moans and gyrations increased, they were… especially sensitive. How interesting.

With a hand, he cupped one breast, delicately squeezing and kneading it, while tending to the other two-tones-deeper nipple with a dexterous tongue. The Xaelan's breathing was sharp and rapid, her chest heaving with every pull and bite. 

“To think there you would have a use other than – ah! – talking… for that – nnngh! – tongue of yours,” she gasped.

The Warrior of Light left her bosom and trailed down further still. He reached her skirt after crossing the plains of her rigid abdomen and stopped to lock eyes once more. As Sadu lay there, biting on the middle knuckle of her index finger, her acceptance was vivid, and she raised her hips. With a single, solid tug, her skirt and undergarments were pulled free and tossed aside.

A delicate slit – small, closed, and slightly wet – surrounded by a shrub of pure-white hairs presented itself; hot and aching. Khatun first, Sadu did not falter. She watched him ogle her and weighed his subtle reactions of uncertainty… as minute as they were.

“Are you… sure?” he asked.

So polite, as always. “Would you ask the sweltering sheep if it still desired to shear their coat?” she chimed back. “Perhaps it is you yourself that need answer the question?”

“I was just--” the Warrior of Light faltered. “--I've only ever done things for the sake of others, so this… I don't want this to seem like I'm just doing this for you.”

“Then perhaps it is your turn to ask yourself what it is that you want?”

He leaned over her, face painstakingly close. “I want you,” he whispered. “Sadu, I want you more than I have ever wanted anything in my life. But this is all… new to me.”

“Then this shall be a fight unfamiliar to us both. Let your instincts take over, khagan, and let our souls burn bright.”

His hesitance lingered for but a moment until Sadu pulled him in and washed it away with a kiss. She invaded him thoroughly, her fingers sailing through his hair. The Warrior of Light explored her in turn and snaked a hand toward her womanhood. He caressed her slit gently, letting her warmth and wetness envelop his fingers. A vocal swoon reverberated from her mouth to his; a noise almost lost in translation.

A finger breached her entrance, and the warm, gooey innards clenched tight around him. There was barely enough room for another finger, let alone his--

“--Aaahh!” Sadu belted out in surprise. In response, he slowed and moved gently. His finger brushed against the roof of her walls, running over sweet-spot-after-sweet-spot. The feeling was… explosive, and so very different with somebody else's fingers.

The Warrior of Light pulled away from her lips, tendrils of her saliva lingering behind from both. He repositioned himself lower and continued to give painstaking attention to her hips and thighs-- everywhere except where Sadu wanted it most.

Then suddenly, with a deft, saliva-lathered tongue, he plunged ahead. The slimy, wriggly feeling was as night-and-day to the coarseness of calloused fingers. The sensitivity dulled from incessant, painful shocks to waves of crashing pleasure; like flint strikes waiting to catch. It was definitely yet another wonderful thing his tongue could do besides talk.

Warmth begot warmth as the Warrior of Light suckled on Sadu's clit; the tempo of their dance constantly changing. From the tender pitter-patter of kisses, to vacuum-pressure suckling, to long, drawn-out, full-length licks of her slit. He simply gave her no quarter. But it wasn't until the return of his robust fingering did she find herself driven to the edges of pleasure and clarity. She clung to him desperately as an anchor to reality-- she was here, but she was melting.

Unconsciously, her hips began to rise as more pleasure was coaxed from her. As the khatun's hands gripped the blankets – and her breasts, and her face, and his hair, and her stomach – her body twisted and buckled. Her mouth hadn't closed in some time, not amidst all the moaning and fawning and breathing. She was reaching… something, very quickly.

Then he inserted a second finger.

Sadu's eyes snapped open as an almost-voiceless scream came across her lips. Her insides clenched tighter, still, and the man between her legs continued slowly, calmly. Carefully. Damn him. For someone so intent on quickly ending a fight, he prolonged this one needlessly. But as the initial pain subsided, she found there was a certain… fullness within her now; a swelling. It was instructive. And that same feeling of reaching bounced back, even faster now.

Waves of ecstasy pulsated up through her entire core as her body went rigid from the on-set of the climax. It was a rush more heady than most battles she'd fought, as she could See her soul did, indeed, burn most incandescently. Her breathing and grip relaxed relaxed, but naught could stop the heat she felt all over.

“I think you quite enjoyed that,” the Warrior of Light finally spoke up, his first words in minutes.

“Hmmmmnnn… you are full of surprises,” she replied.

“Didn't want to disappoint you.”

“You would have to try very hard to do that, khagan.”

He lay down next to her, appreciating the view all the while. Her sweat-glistened body radiated in the candlelight. “Well, I think you very nearly woke up the entire village with your… noise,” he denoted.

“My people would not dare question their khatun-- and certainly not the khagan.”

“In that case… I'll take it that was enough to make up for a lack of battle?”

“It is a start,” Sadu said slyly. “But…” she slid herself around and ran hands and fingers down his abdomen, tucking them teasingly into his trousers. “Let us see what weapons you have concealed down here.”

She tugged delicately, or as delicately as she could against the tension, and slowly revealed the Warrior of Light's erection. Heat radiated from it, and a musky scent filled her nose. It was an awesome thing; hearty, thick, and twitching. Just how was it supposed to… fit?

The khatun bit her lower lip, intrigued. “Spear, indeed,” she noted. Coolly, Sadu ran an exploratory finger up the length, noticing how it pulsed and twitched at her touch. A sensitive thing. Then she grasped it, fingers locking onto it like a polearm, eliciting a sharp breath from her partner. She smirked. His member was especially hot in her hand, like the flames she was so used to commanding.

“Perhaps this was your weakness all along, khagan?” her words oozed lasciviousness, and her gaze met his from behind the fleshy monolith.

The Warrior of Light could only but breathe through the intense sensations. Sadu's grip was tight and her rhythm slow; like a cruel dissection. She didn't bother to hide her glee. As her tempo increased, so did his twitching.

Then she enveloped the tip with her mouth. 

Warm, gooey, soft; suckling. It was a sloppy, messy heaven. Sadu's tongue flicked and rolled against his tip with every bob of her head. Her breath and voice reverberated along his shaft, and each suck tugged something from within him. Good grief, she was a gifted natural.

“Sadu, you're… haa--” he could hardly finish the sentence as she took him deeply. He clasped her hair and horn, an anchor to the moment for himself. Now his moans that filled the yurt and Sadu took pride in that. He would not out-do her, not again. Not here. Oh, but the smell! And the heat! It was getting to her, dizzying her. Enslaving her.

Thin lips clamped around the head, her deft tongue wriggling in-about-and-around his ridges. It was her turn to give special attention; that Dotharl hospitality. And the Warrior of Light found himself quickly reaching climax. Like a tidal wave, there was no warning; his body shuddered and his hips stiffened. A groan of bewilderment escaped the Xaelan's rapidly-filling mouth and she pulled away immediately, coughing and spluttering all the while. 

Hot ropes shot one after the other, decorating her smooth, blue face with trails of white. His juices were like warmed kumis. Bitter, though not intolerable. The smell, however, was dizzying; pungent and thick. Addictive. Oh, dear…

She wiped her face clear and licked the dredges from sticky fingers. An acquired taste, perhaps? No, definitely not. She would have to wash her hair thoroughly tomorrow.

“Sorry,” he blurted out awkwardly.

She giggled at him and gobbled his manhood for a final clean. Blue hands wormed their way up his his abdomen as the khatun's head sprang up with a pop. Her mischievous grin, full and wild. She heaved herself up, meeting her hips with his-- her sex, with his. Fingernails dug gently into the Warrior of Light's chest as she rocked too-and-fro, wet against wet, twitching and aching.

“Do you want me, still, khagan?” Sadu asked, voice husky, drunk on love-making.

He basked in her glow-- in her smile, in her eyes. Damn it, she was stunning. He nodded, and his cock surged beneath her: two for yes.

Bracing herself, knees to the bed, Sadu raised her hips and pressed her lover to her entrance. It was electric. A shock of sensitivity that spiralled up through the both of them. He could feel her tension, the indomitable surge of will right before a great battle.

“Just relax,” the Warrior of Light encouraged.

There was a specific kind of meltingly soft constriction that overwhelmed him. Battle-hardened muscles strained against the insertion, and the khatun, in spite of all her bluster, found herself short of breath. The fullness from those calloused fingers paled in comparison to the hot, pulsing rod that bore through her. It pushed past stern walls, their juices coalescing in an attempt to ease the journey. Before long, she nearly had him all the way to the base, and she laughed.

“Haaa… ah. Ha, ha, ha. Haa… Mmmnnn. My, my, khagan… to think your blade could penetrate me so,” she said with feigned confidence. He let her have it, as he struggled all the same.

“You're quite… sturdy,” he breathed.

“In truth, you are my first.”

“But there's…?”

“No blood? No.” She shook her head, belaying the flushness. “I lost my maidenhead riding horseback, it happens to many Dotharli women.”

“Perhaps you can show me your riding technique then?”

“Ha! Just a moment. This act is new, but… this feeling-- the fire in my soul burns most brightly.”

Ever-brave, Sadu cautiously pushed herself up as thousands upon thousands of sensitive glans were rushed over again. It was painful – a wound like no other; pure sensory overload – but something within urged her forward. The more she moved, the more the sensations gave way from pain to pleasure. Then at once, her hips gave, and she began to drop, but her lover's arms caught her waist and held her aloft. The khatun nodded her thanks, speechless.

The Warrior of Light took her hands in his, fingers interwoven once more, and held some of the weight. Her insides were incredibly tight, vacuously so. As Sadu slid up, her lips coiled around his member, begging him to stay. She was so warm – so unbearably warm – and he wanted nothing more than to hold her in this embrace for eternity.

Comfort bred confidence, and Sadu started to move faster and higher. She dared herself to do more, to take more of him. Her body quivered with each scrape of her insides, as wave-after-wave of ecstasy crashed against the shores of her mind. She was hot all over, and found that as the beads of sweat cascaded down her naked form, such wanton acts of debauchery rivalled a great battle.

How exhilarating.

The sounds of their panting and slippery skinship echoed throughout the yurt. Eyes locked, the two lovers formed a steady tempo. Sadu settled into a comfortable gyrating motion, and as she rocked her hips in an axis, she felt herself acclimating to him. The more she moved, the more she took to his shape. An upper-hand, however slight. She grinned at the man beneath her, for he could do nothing but cling on for dear life.

And there it was, the rush. “Sadu, I'm--” the Warrior of Light blurted out, panicked. But it was too late.

He came, forcefully. Far more so than before. It erupted from within him as numbing waves pulsed again-and-again-and-again from his loins. Sadu's eyes went wide, then flickered, her grip on reality lost. She dropped as his strength gave and she collided with the base. His full length – still firing – penetrated her core, the tip pressing hard against her cervix. The khatun screamed wildly as the heat and the pressure and pulsing shoved her over the edge. She convulsed and fell in a sweaty heap atop the Warrior of Light as her own orgasm shuddered through her body.

“Ha… ha… haaah… you lost,” the Xaelan decreed.

He could barely register her words. “What…?”

“You… ha… came first. You lost.”

Refusing to be run afoul of, the Warrior of Light pulled the petite warrior-woman up, their sexes separating with a gurgle. She was still extremely sensitive as he helped her lay down beside him, practically wincing at the whole shift.

Oh. 

A terrific – or terrible – amount of thick, pasty seed oozed out from Sadu's womanhood. It lathered globules all down her thighs and pooled up like tar, staining the pelts-- hell, the mattress. But she smiled thinly, content; glowing. Her glow even rivalled that of Nhaama's, there was no denying it.

“Hey, Sadu?” he whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I think I should mention that… you were my first, too.”

She exhaled a chortle through her nose. “Well,” she said, “you were a wonderful opponent.”

“But, I… I did it inside, I don't--”

“--Enough of your worries, khagan. I said I would have you, and I meant everything.” Sadu's gaze held resolute. “Though the chances are slim, a child of your strength would be nothing short of a boon.”

She was serious. The Warrior of Light felt his stern expression fade, and he leaned in for a soft kiss. But the tender embrace quickly became one of voraciousness; of hunger. He shifted, claiming the stance of aggressor, and pinned Sadu's arms to the bed. Her legs seemed to wrap around his waist of their own volition, and in an instant he was rearing to go again.

Lips and hands disengaged as they reignited their passion, fervent and longing. He trailed kisses along her neck – suckling on supple, blue skin – while slowly and deeply thrusting. Sadu explored every inch of his back, gripping and clutching and scratching, doing whatever she could to hold him closer-- deeper. Her clinging drove him wild, but it wasn't enough. He wanted more; more of her, more of… this feeling!

A dark thought crept into his mind; a subtle fury uncovered and chipped away at by carnal desires. He thrust harder, wet skin slapping loudly against wet skin. Moans fell by the wayside of breathlessness as the Dotharl woman's figure went convex from the blows. It was primal and fierce, the sensations barely keeping up as her insides were mashed. In an act of pure desperation to wane off the ecstasy, she bit into his shoulder and clawed at his back. Yet another anchor.

The Warrior of Light ploughed through the pain effortlessly, ignoring the trickling – blood? Hopefully, just sweat – down his back. He seized one of Sadu's horns with a rough hand and squeezed her chest with another, locking her in place. Stronger still, did he continue the lovemaking, driving himself all the way to his base with every thrust. Yet he desired more…

More!

He tugged her off his shoulder by the horn, catching her wild gaze, and drank in the expressions. Then he kissed her passionately and eased his hip movements, throwing off the paradigm once more. As their vertiginous lip-lock commenced, the Warrior of Light changed position, rising from his knees to a disciplined squat. He brought his lover's hips up slightly with him and brought down the full strength of his lower-half unto her.

Muffled grunts reverberated from Sadu's tongue to his with each ram. Every time he ascended, a brief fluttering churned within her hot, full belly. And every time he thrust, lightning coursed up through her entire being. It was overwhelming; terrifying, like the anticipation of a meteor strike. It was… addictive. She could feel it all-- all of him, and all of herself; and she wanted more.

“Khagan!” Sadu moaned as he continued to slap against her. “I'm--” slap. “--Going--” slap. “--To--” slap. “--Aaahh!--” slap.

There was no time to finish the proclamation. Her entire body convulsed once more, shivering – quaking – with orgasmic pleasure. The Warrior of Light felt her tighten, but he refused to cease. In spite of his buckling knees, he drove into her with his every dark desire. For every time he took on a needless quest. For every person he helped and every errand he ran, he thrust out his frustration.

The khatun's eyes lolled back as her ecstasy compounded, body going limp. Her lover slowed and eventually stopped as he released another load. Already sweltering, Sadu let out a whimper as their conjoined sexes pulsed tenderly. It hurt – everything hurt – but it was a good kind of hurt, the wound-licking kind. Now all she needed was a good rest.

“You lost that time,” taunted the exhausted Warrior of Light as he slumped down beside her.

Light-headed and pride wounded, Sadu''s eyes snapped open. “You cheated!” she spat.

“I'd say I fought quite honourably.”

She growled again, like before-- when it all started. “Very well, khagan. If you wish to fight dirty, I shall oblige.”

Sadu clambered over him, purposefully digging her knees in wherever able. Her tail slapped his chest as she slammed down, taut backside absorbing the recoil. In her hands, the Warrior of Light's manhood was hot, red, limp, and showed no signs of a swift recovery. Firmness would have to be coaxed from him.

She squashed him beneath her slit and gingerly swayed her hips. Little-by-little, Sadu felt her lover's length begin to stiffen and twitch. As the feint of gentleness fell, she devoured him whole and found it to be even easier to take than last time. She had taken his shape, well and truly.

Animal instinct – or adrenaline, or whatever it was that those scholar-sheep called it – surged through her, driving her to move past the pain. She pounded him with all the might she could muster, her toned midsection and buttocks holding together admirably. Sadu grinned that cheeky, devilish grin as she felt her lover's tension. In his thighs, his hips and face-- the Warrior of Light was, once again, holding on for dear life.

Then his hands latched onto her rear, claw-like and savagely strong.

“Huh…?” the khatun was flabbergasted. She could not move.

A vicious locomotive, the Warrior of Light heaved himself like a mighty piston. Whereas before it was a display of strength, he now dared a contest of speed. And he moved. He moved faster than he thought possible in such a rugged state. The Echo – his second-wind – compelled him; or was it something else-- just the drink, something worse?

“Kha-ah-ah-ah-gan… s-s-st-st-o-o-o-op. N-n-o-o-o-o!” Sadu stammered out a plea, her whole body shaking from the force of his thrusts.

Dark thoughts plagued him once again. The more he moved, so too did the call of his Darkside grow. It hungered-- he hungered. How much time had passed? Seconds? Minutes? He knew she'd climaxed again. He'd felt it. All of a sudden, he stopped, and Sadu slid off – limp and face-first – into the bed. Ten red imprints clashed against the spruce-blue of her skin, and tendrils of love-juice kissed goodbye as their sexes separated.

The Warrior of Light was still hard and hot, and rose to his knees. He pressed the woman's hips flat and then grasped the base of her tail-- in the way! He thumbed her cheek with his free hand lined up the source of all his anguish. The heat and pressure… it was all too much. He needed release.

“Wait--” the khatun's cries were eclipsed as he leaned his full weight onto her.

The pain was blinding as Sadu felt his member delve into her rear-end. It was coarse and searingly hot, feelings made all the more apparent as his furnace of a torso bore down on her back. Hungry, suckling kisses gnawed at her neck to accompany the slow churn. Strangely, something stirred inside her. Something scratched an incessant itch in her head. Something felt… good.

“You're tight, Sadu,” the Warrior of Light grunted a whisper between kisses.

“Ah, no!” she cooed, wrought with embarrassment at an act so debased being so pleasurable.

His fingers slipped into her mouth, swirling with her tongue and saliva, and her loud, heaving moans. He forced her head back and drove his hips deeper, harder. He wished he could see the look on his lover's face. The prideful khatun, revelling in lust. How exotic.

He churned her insides more-and-more as the orgasmic rush returned. It almost hurt, really, in spite of the Echo. But his stamina wouldn't give, not at such a crucial time in such a fierce battle.

“I'm gonna' come,” he whispered again, hoarse and breathless. “You're… too…”

Mouth full, the khatun pleaded, “no' inshide. I 'ill go crwayzee!” 

“Sorry, it's--”

Too late. 

His body convulsed and he emptied himself into Sadu with a flush of hot liquid. Her scream pierced his ears and her legs kicked and spasmed against the back of his thighs. When he finished, the Warrior of Light withdrew – unsteady, but careful – and fell back on the bed, numb and drained. He quickly cleaned himself up with one of the bed's pelts and… slowly… closed his eyes. So… tired. 

It felt as if Azim himself had besmirched her insides, her rear touched by the midday sun. Hot. So… hot; like blood. She blinked away her blurry vision and shook clear her foggy head. The smell, by Nhaama-- she reeked of him; of her opponent. The enemy. The battle! The battle raged on, her soul still burned.

Sadu clambered back up onto the bed – when had she fallen to the floor? - and clawed at her lover's thighs. Eyes wild and teeth bare, the Xaelean glared at him like a beast. He was defenceless, vulnerable. She could pounce now and bequeath him in flames of equal measure; heat for heat. As her nails sunk into flesh, his eyes snapped open. Perfect.

“It's not… over… yet!” she snarled.

Reinvigorated, the khatun dragged his legs up – a small payback for earlier – and squat herself over top. Her smiled grew wicked as she plunged down on his manhood with her Au'ra strength. Grip firm, a hand to each ankle, she would make sure he would feel her pain; her embarrassment. She needed to reclaim her pride.

“Your fire burns weak, khagan! 'Tis nought but cinders now!” Sadu taunted. “Where did your strength go?!”

The Warrior of Light gripped the bed, tense and visibly wincing. “Slow down, please,” he huffed.

She laughed, loud and mocking. “Do not disappoint me now!”

“Just-- nnnghh, wait!”

Sadu leaned in, using her weight to hold him in position, and dug fingernails into his chest. He had become hard inside her, and she loved it; loved lording control over him. The power, the pleasure, the passion-- it was all so wonderful. His strength had been insurmountable, defeating her twice in single moves. But with the shift in their power dynamic, she could not help getting drunk on it.

“Come, khagan! Come for me,” she jeered sweetly in his ear. “Show me that which makes the essence of your life!”

Before he could answer, she nibbled on his ear, gentle and suckling. It tickled, and shot pangs of hot joy through his head. He could barely register the sweet nothings she whispered amidst the slaps of their sticky, wet flesh. Everything hurt, and she refused to relent. But he'd be damned if it didn't feel spectacular.

Thump. Thump, thump, thump, thump. Thump. Thump. Sadu held his face still, her eyes boring into his soul, before bringing her hips down for a last thump. His release was a short burst, sudden and sore. And her kiss was instant, greedy. Slowly, she let him down while continuing to patter his neck and chest with love-bites.

“I guess that was fair,” the Warrior of Light admitted.

She smiled and lay flat on his chest, jabbing, “I am thankful you did not take it personally.”

“Could've gone easy on the scratching, though.”

“You seemed to enjoy it earlier, khagan, or perhaps I imagined you thrusting your… spear with great vigour?”

“'Well, that's--” he couldn't deny it. “--Hmm. Fine. I'll show you vigour!” He scooped her up and rose to his feet, her legs wrapping around his waist in surprise.

Sadu blinked as he pressed his length to her entrance. “You cannot be serious,” she said in disbelief.

He grinned her devilish grin and let her slide down onto him. She cooed at the gradual insertion, the tenderness a distinct and welcome change. The Warrior of Light continued to grind against her every fold and bump while letting gravity do most of the work. She clung to him – half-mad from the pace – and shuddered with each deep prod.

“Oh, khagan!” she moaned. “Yes, right there!”

“What about right here?” He shifted his grip to clasp her behind and spread her cheeks. “Or perhaps I imagined your many climaxes when I used this hole?”

Confusion and concern swept across the khatun's face as misty tendrils of black emanated from the Warrior of Light and swirled behind her. He forced it to solidify into a simulacrum of himself-- a Living Shadow. It matched him – his length – and pressed into her rear. Sadu tensed, her entire being aflame, and felt both rods squeeze her insides. The shadow possessed no temperature or juices of its own, and mimicked her lover's exact and purposefully intense movements. It was too much. Far too much. She was going to die!

“How's my great vigour now?” he mocked.

She couldn't even breathe.

Together, the Warrior of Light and his doppelgänger, thrust is perfect synchronization, an act that ramped up in speed and strength. He was vile-- wicked! And she could barely hang on. Her legs clung limp, and arms drooped heavy. Her eyes were hazy and unfocused; and her was jaw slack, unable to let out a muffled groan. There was no way to tell how many times she had been forced to climax amidst such combined virility. She had been defeated thoroughly, and lacked even the strength to admit it.

Then, as quick as the setting sun, the shadow was gone, and her lover held her in place, steady and calm; unmoving. He kissed her sweetly and moved back down to the bed. They sat in a warm embrace, their legs crossed around one another. Gingerly, they rocked, as if setting a babe down to sleep, and Sadu revelled in it. 

She had lost, but he was too gracious to rub it in. She loved that about him. She loved his strength. She loved his serenity, his kindness, and acceptance. Perhaps… she even loved him, in truth?

They stayed in their flowery position for a time, grinding their sexes in the gentlest way possible. They kissed and suckled and love-bit for as long as the candles burned; until they melted down to nubs. Long into the dark of night – under Nhaama's watchful eye – did their love continue, tender and sweet.

And all time became lost.

The Warrior of Light awoke with a sharp inhale – immune to the dank coalescence – and a groggy head. Sadu lay beside him, her head cradled in his arm, snoring softly, content. He sighed, sore and itchy all over; his loins crusty with dried love-juice. Memories came flooding back, the night's debauchery a vivid mass of detail. Had he really done… all that to her?

He quietly and carefully pulled away from her, doing his best not to disturb her slumber. She merely hummed and rolled over, unfazed. He found his trousers close to the bed, having forgotten exactly when they'd slipped off, and donned them. The rest of his attire was nowhere to found in the dimly-lit yurt, and he was too thirsty to care.

The crisp morning air of the Steppes hit him like a wall, refreshing and clean, but also as an undignified reminder of how much he stank of sex. What had Sadu said, nobody would dare question the khagan? He hoped she was right.

The Warrior of Light approached the spring and began to wash his face with scoopfuls of it, drinking the occasional splash. It dribbled down all over his scratched, bruised, and love-bitten body, and he quickly began to lather it in. The sun would dry him out, no problem.

“Ahem,” came a voice from behind.

He turned to see Shar, the khatun's assistant, arms folded and a disapproving scowl across her face.

“If the khagan so desires, I can have a bath drawn for you?” she asked. “Else I would request you refrain from sullying our drinking water.”

“Oh,” he said. “Right. Sorry… yes, a bath. Please.”

Embarrassed, the Warrior of Light returned to Sadu's yurt. A wall of hot air greeted him upon return, the musky stench of their lovemaking stagnant, unable to escape. The khatun slept still, her snores a bit more brutish now, the sign of a true warrior. And yet, she was beautiful beyond compare, his very own drop of starlight in the night sky.

Dotharl tribesmen promptly began to filter through, pouring vase-after-vase of hot water into Sadu's tub. Shar herself brought in new candles and lit them, misty vapours glistening in their light. She left with a polite bow and closed the tent-flap – yurt-flap? - after her. Perhaps she had smelt the room too?

The Warrior of Light ran a hand through the near-scalding bathwater with a pleasant smile. The hotter the better. As he sank in, every tiny cut screamed out in itchy, sharp pain. But he felt relieved as all the tension in his muscles drifted away.

“Would you care for some company, khagan?” Sadu asked, her figure hidden behind a pelt.

“Oh, Sadu!” he sat up, bucketing water everywhere. “I didn't hear you get up.”

“I did but a moment ago. Now, if you would please… I should like to bathe as well.”

She dropped the pelt and slithered over, her hand brushing his shoulder, face and then hair. Her smooth leg dipped into the tub, one-at-a-time, and she soon submerged herself whole, back against his chest.

“Did you… enjoy last night?” the Warrior of Light pondered.

“You were rather wild and untamed, khagan. Like an unbroken mare.”

“Oh.”

“I do so enjoy a challenge.” Her grin beamed at him. Damn her. “Yes, it was wonderful,” she finished. “Was I… to your liking?”

He kissed the top of her head and said, “I couldn't have asked for a better battle companion.”

“Your words make my heart flutter, and I am all the more grateful for your honesty, khagan.”

They soaked in silence, merely letting the bath work its magic and while indulging in each other's embrace. It was heaven. The Warrior of Light interlocked his fingers around her abdomen, wondering if he'd really… done the deed. Could he let it go, just like that?

“You are worried, are you not?” Sadu asked.

“A little.”

“There is no cause for concern, khagan. Our compatibility as a species is minimal at best. However…” she rose her hips slightly and allowed his erection to poke up in front of her. “You are welcome to challenge that.”

Her palm circled his tip, the bathwater swirling as she nursed greater-and-greater a reaction. In response, the Warrior of Light threaded kisses along her neck and shoulder lines, his hands rising to cup her breasts. He pinched her nipples while she stroked his shaft, and were it not for her horns, he had no doubt their lips would be locked.

Sadu, breathing sharp, pressed a finger to his frenulum and slot him inside. She began to gyrate back-and-forth, getting a feel for him – all of him – insider her. How he churned her in all the right spots.

The Warrior of Light matched her rhythm, bringing his hips up as she rocked forward. The heat of the bath radiated over them both, inducing a sweat worse than before. It was hot; she was hot. Sadu Heavensflame, indeed.

“Hey, I'm gonna'--” he blathered.

“--Together, then!” She moved faster, scuttling bathwater all over the floor.

He locked both arms around her centre and heaved his hips up, driving himself over the edge. Sadu clenched down as an unbearable heat plastered her insides, the bathwater now feckless in comparison. They held each other as their sexes continued to pulsate out final vestiges, breathing utterly ragged.

“You certainly… haa… rose… to the challenge, khagan,” she sighed.

He loosened his grip and sunk back. “I try,” the Warrior of Light mumbled. “But… you feel… too good, Sadu. Damn.”

The khatun laughed and lay her head down in the water, her hair swaying, dazzling, like silver seaweed. Cerulean eyes peered up at him, her Sight boring into his soul. It was him, had to be. She pressed a wet hand to his cheek, a tight smile adorning her lips.

“Tell me, khagan,” she started. “Would you… would you stay here, with me, and become my khan in truth?”

The Warrior of Light furrowed his brow, his heart racing. He clasped a hand to hers, never once leaving her gaze. “Sadu,” he said. “I…”


End file.
